


Circles

by Circles In The Desert (KinoKahn)



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 20,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinoKahn/pseuds/Circles%20In%20The%20Desert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Allen Walker showed up in his classes, Kanda couldn't quite decide if the emotion cutting through his veins was hate or... something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Hi,” said the boy standing at the front of the classroom, “My name’s Allen Walker.”

He took a deep breath, shoulders seeming to shiver as he did so. He cast a glance around the room at all the other teens, who were laughing and giggling and gawking at his peculiar looks.

“I’m… um… 16 years old. I just moved here, which is why I’m starting so late in the semester…”

He was odd-looking to say the least. He had shaggy white hair, like an old man, and a painful red scar that ran from his forehead nearly to his chin. It traveled down across his eyelid, but didn’t seem to interfere; his silver eyes blinked just fine.

“Yeah… I grew up in the circus, so I didn’t really have any formal schooling growing up…”

“Is he albino?” the Chinese girl next to Kanda whispered to her friend, “I mean, he’s got the hair… but aren’t his eyes supposed to be red?”

Kanda leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk.

“Yeah… so… um…I hope you’ll be patient with me, and I’m really excited to get—”

“Yu Kanda, get your feet off the desk!” the teacher yelled from his desk.

“Ch,” Kanda tisked. He leaned his head back, long black hair pooling on the empty desk behind him, and ignored the teacher. The room was dead silent, and Allen twiddled his thumbs at the front of the room.

The teacher let out an audible sigh and Kanda rolled his eyes.

“Alright, everybody, let’s give Allen a warm welcome, and be as helpful as possible!” the teacher said half-heartedly. Some people clapped, but mostly they were whispering. “Circus?” “Albino?” “Scar?” “Academically behind? Is he retarded?” “Shouldn’t he be in the Special Ed class then?”

Kanda swung his legs off the desk and walked out the door, not bothering to take the bathroom pass. He followed the curve of the halls towards the building’s exit, hands behind his head and fingers knitted together under his long high ponytail. Out the doors, to the lone bench hidden in the shadows of the administration building. He sat down on the backrest of the bench, hunched over with his feet on the seat.

“I fucking hate people,” he muttered as he lit a cigarette.


	2. Chapter 2

“Um…”

Kanda looked up to see that weird scarred kid standing before him, holding out a black messenger bag. The quad was full of chatter and students eating lunch, but no one was near Kanda. They knew this was _his_ bench.

“You didn’t come back before class ended, so the teacher asked me to find you—” Kanda’s jaw clenched before he could realize the kid had said “you,” not “Yu.”

Allen saw the reaction and hesitated, finally plastering a smile on his face and continuing, “asked me to find you and give it to you.”  
Kanda grabbed the bag out of Allen’s hand and threw it on the bench with more force than would ever be necessary. Allen flinched and took a step back, but Kanda just took another drag from his cigarette. He looked out at the field, refusing to make eye contact with the boy in front of him.

“Um…” Allen scratched his head. ”He asked _me_ to do it, since after you left everyone introduced themselves to me, but you didn’t get a chance to…”

He continued smiling and removed his hand from his head, holding it out to Kanda.

“So I’m Allen.”

“Whatever,” Kanda said, still looking to the side. He made no move to shake the outstretched hand. Allen held it out for nearly a minute before finally letting it drop to his side.

“Those things will kill you, you know.”

“Fuck you.” Kanda let the words mix with smoke as he breathed them out.

This was how, sophomore year of high school, Allen Walker met Yu Kanda.


	3. Chapter 3

Kanda was tempted to breathe a sign of relief when the boy finally left, but instead he ground the remainder of his cigarette into the bottom of his shoe. He folded his arms, one elbow on each knee, and leaned forward. It was a cold day but he hadn’t been bothered to bring anything heavier than his grey zip-up jacket.

Footsteps met Kanda’s ears and he looked up to see a white-haired kid walking towards him, returning from god knows where. Kanda grunted and looked down, but held his ground.

“Go the fuck away. This is my fucking bench, Moyashi,” he said without looking up.  
The footsteps stopped, but they were already too close for comfort. He cautioned a sideways glance and saw that Allen was standing five feet away, brown bag in hand. He looked… tired.

“The name’s Allen, and fuck you too. Everyone else is talking shit about me so I’m going to sit here and eat. Ignore me, fine. I don’t care.”

Kanda blinked. The kid had been so polite and nervous when introducing himself to the class.

Allen sat down on the ground cross-legged and opened the brown bag. Kanda watched out of the corner of his eye, still hunched over and already craving another cigarette.

He stared as Allen pulled out a squished sandwich wrapped in a bag and an apple. Finally looking away, he scoffed into his fist, and Allen glanced up.

“Shut up,” Allen said before unwrapping his meal. His face was red and he bit his lower lip.

Kanda recognized that brown paper bag and that meal in it; it was the school’s free lunch for kids who didn’t have any lunch money. He remembered those days, before Froi Tiedoll had become his foster father and established the routine of giving him lunch money. That didn’t mean he actually spent that money on lunch, though. He saved it for cancer sticks, filling his stomach with nicotine. Well, filling his lungs.

Allen ate his meal in silence as Kanda gave in and pulled out another cigarette.


	4. Chapter 4

Second-to-last class of the day, and there that white-haired kid was again. He didn’t follow the guys into the locker room to change, but he was there, talking to the PE teacher when Kanda came out wearing black basketball shorts and a white t-shirt, hair still tied back in a high ponytail.

“Listen up!” the teacher yelled as soon as all of the guys were dressed and sitting on the gym floor in front of her. Allen stood next to her, looking down at the worn wood beneath his feet and tugging absent-mindedly on his shirt sleeve. He was still wearing the same clothes from earlier: black slacks, a white long-sleeved button-up shirt, and a red ribbon tied in place of a bowtie. His jacket—a plain black peacoat—was folded on the bleacher behind him.  
“This is Allen Walker. He’s the new kid,” the teacher called out, talking louder than necessary, as if she wanted her voice to echo off the gym’s walls.

“He doesn’t have the right clothes yet so he’s sitting out today. You all had better treat him with as much respect as you treat each other. Alright?” She didn’t wait for an answer before picking up a basketball from behind her and tossing it at the boys sitting on the ground. Someone caught it before it hit anyone. Kanda, in the back row, kept his eyes trained on nervous Allen Walker, who was still pulling on the cuff of his sleeve.

“Today we’re playing basketball,” she said, “Divide into teams and get at it.”

She clapped her hands together and sat down at the bench. There was a squabble over who would be team captain, and Kanda stood at the edge of the group, arms crossed and wearing a scowl directed at no one in particular. He didn’t want to be team captain and he didn’t care what team he ended up on.

As the guys argued over who was on whose team, he could overhear the teacher talking to Allen, whose responses were too quiet to pick up.

“Look, I know you’ve already explained it to me. You can’t get out of the class… No, you can’t wear something else. You gotta wear a white t-shirt and shorts, that’s the rules. If you don’t have the money, I can… No, sorry, no long-sleeve shirts. Look, these are a bunch of real respectful guys, I’m sure they won’t—” as if on cue, one of the boys called another one a pussy for trying to claim Kanda on his team, who shrugged and stood in that group anyways. He just didn’t give a fuck. But he glanced over his shoulder and saw Allen fidgeting next to the gym teacher, tugging lightly on his sleeve with his gloved hand.

Gloves? Had he been wearing those all day? Kanda hadn’t noticed.

Someone tossed him the ball and he caught it, not sure who was on his team and who wasn’t, but he didn’t care. He knew which hoop was his target, and dribbled the ball as he went for it.

But he nearly fell backwards with the sudden tug on his ponytail. Kanda spun around to see one of the boys who had argued to be team captain standing with an outstretched hand.

Before anyone could blink, Kanda punched him in the face.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Kanda was let out of the principal’s office he had detention and it was already halfway through the last class of the day. He sauntered through the halls, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his jacket, headed for his English class. Lo and behold, Allen Walker was there too.

Kanda gave the teacher his tardy pass and slammed himself into his seat. Previously, the seats on either side of him had been empty, but now the spot to his left was occupied by a certain white-haired student.  
“We’re going over the fourth chapter of _Lord of the Flies_ ,” Allen said under his breath. Kanda leaned back to look at the ceiling.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes, Moyashi.”

“My name’s Allen. What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re a jackass.”

Kanda continued looking at the ceiling, counting the water stains in the tiles.

“Do you have the book?”

“What book?”

“ _Lord of the Flies_. I just said that’s what we’re reading.”

“No.”

“…me neither.”

Kanda rolled his eyes and re-positioned himself in his chair properly, staring at the white board before him. The teacher was writing themes of the book on the board and the names of important characters, but Kanda didn’t bother pulling out a notebook.

He glanced to his left side and saw that Allen Walker, however, was writing as fast as he could.

Which wasn’t very fast.

His words were big and clunky, some too big and some barely resembling the letters they signified. Spacing was uneven, and the lines of college-ruled paper seemed to do little to confine his hands.

Was it because of the gloves?

Kanda leaned a little to his left, folding his arms over his chest and crossing his legs as he did so. Allen didn’t notice the movement, but continued his slow writing.

His spelling was atrocious. Civilization was spelled “civlation,” and pragmatism as “pragmutsm.”

Kanda clicked his tongue and moved back to his original position, counting the ceiling tiles. The kid hadn’t been lying when he said he was “academically behind,” Kanda decided.


	6. Chapter 6

In all honesty, Kanda possibly attended detention with more regularity than he did his assigned classes. Under usual circumstances such violence would have resulted in a suspension, but a discussion with witnesses revealed that Kanda, for once, was not the instigator.

Kanda sat at his detention desk—well, the desk he had claimed as his—and deepened his previous carvings in the worn wood. They were shapeless squiggles, profanities (“fuck,” “fuck you,” and “fuck everyone” being the most common), and occasional haphazard geometrical shapes. The teacher in charge of detention had his feet propped up on his desk and read the newspaper. Minutes ticked by, and the detained students were dead silent as always. One of them did homework, and two who sat near each other in the back passed notes. Kanda just… sat there. He leaned back in his chair and counted the tiles on the ceiling, leaned forward in his chair, head cupped in his hands, and counted the bricks on the wall. He already knew how many tiles and bricks there were, but it was something to do.

The clock ticked and ticked and ticked and Kanda found his mind wandering… to that damn new kid.

“You’re dismissed,” the teacher said before Kanda fully recognized he was even thinking of Allen Walker. Some of the other students bolted out the door, but Kanda took his time stretching, yawning, and moseying out the door, messenger bag flung across his back.

 

In front of the school he saw that kid. That damnable Allen Walker.

He was standing next to a planter, looking over a pile of books. His backpack seemed to have even more books shoved into it.

“Oh, hey Kanda!” Allen said with a smile when Kanda caught his eye. Kanda scoffed and kept walking.

“What’re you still doing here?” Allen asked. Kanda turned around and walked backwards away from Allen.

“I had detention. Punched a guy in the face, remember?”

Allen grimaced and nodded.

“Don’t know how I forgot. I had to go around to all my new teachers and get my textbooks and catch-up work…” He flipped over a book in his hand. Kanda turned around and continued walking away, then stopped

Gloved hands.

“Oi, Moyashi.”

“What does that even mean?”

Kanda ignored the question. “What the fuck’s with the gloves? It’s not cold enough for that shit.”

“Oh…” Allen fumbled with the book and it dropped to the ground. He stooped to pick it up, and when his eyes reconnected with Kanda’s his face was red.

“I… um… I just like gloves.”

“Bullshit.” Kanda began walking towards him, stopping a few feet away with his arms folded across his chest. “The fuck’s with the gloves.”

“Nothing!” Allen said. He sat the retrieved book down on the planter and gripped the index finger of his right-hand glove, tugging on it. He tugged on each finger successively before the glove finally came off, revealing a… completely normal hand.

“See? I just like gloves.”

“Bullshit.”

Kanda unfolded his arms and grabbed Allen’s left hand.

“Hey! No! Stop that!” Allen yelled, voice echoing across the brick walls of the empty plaza. He dug the fingers of his right hand into Kanda’s jacket and tried to pull him off. When that didn’t work, he pushed on Kanda’s chest and tried to shove him away. Kanda didn’t budge. Instead, he ripped the right-hand glove off.

“What the—”

“You fucking asshole!” Allen screamed at him, pulling his arm free and burying it into his coat pocket. “You mother fucking prick! What the fuck is wrong with you?” He flung his backpack onto his shoulder and grabbed his books before running—literally running—away.

Kanda didn’t have a chance to move, or even register that he still held Allen’s glove in his hand.

“What the fuck?” Kanda muttered to himself, scratching his head. Why the hell was that kid’s hand blood red?

“Che, whatever.” Kanda began to walk home—in the same direction Allen had run off.


	7. Chapter 7

As thoroughly as Kanda concentrated on watching the ground, he could still see that little white head bobbing in front of him. Apparently, Allen lived somewhere nearby like him, or at least in the same general direction.

Kanda still absentmindedly clutched the white glove in his hand, barely cognizant of the fact that he even held something.

A red hand? How? Why? What?

“So are you fucking adding stalking to harassment now?” A voice yelled. Kanda’s head snapped up and he saw Allen standing a few yards ahead of him. His left hand was jammed in his pocket, but his right hand—his normal hand—was on his hip, the books he had been carrying cast haphazardly onto the ground.

Kanda kept walking, ignoring Allen as the distance between them evaporated.

“Che,” Kanda muttered when he finally had to move past Allen, nearly shoving the boy off the sidewalk in the process. Allen held his ground and folded his arms across his chest. Well, one arm. His left hand remained tucked away and out of sight, leaving him looking strangely unbalanced.

“Why are you following me?” he asked. He wasn’t yelling this time. The words were soft. Kanda looked up and saw that Allen’s pupils were pinpricks in a sea of gray that waivered back and forth, searching Kanda’s face for a clue. He was… scared.

“Are you going to beat the shit out of me too? Like everyone else? Because I can fight. I know how to fight. If you’re scared of this hand you should know it can punch just as well as my normal one,” Allen said. His voice shook until he bit his lip after the words escaped as if that would somehow call them back.

Kanda squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the warm gray of Allen’s eyes, and quickly shook his head. His ponytail swished from side to side.

“You’re a fucking idiot. Why the hell would I want anything to do with you?” he spat. Allen took a step back—nearly tripping over the curb—and looked down at the sidewalk out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m not following you, Moyashi,” he continued after a painful moment of silence, “I live down this street. Calm the hell down.”

Kanda shoved past Allen again, this time succeeding. He didn’t bother to check behind him as he walked away, but silently squeezed the glove still trapped in his fist nonetheless. A pit in his stomach he had long thought filled with cigarette smoke and profanities suddenly opened, if only for a brief second. His fingernails dug into the fabric of the glove and that gaping maw in somehow felt a bit less empty but no less heavy. He squeezed and squeezed and squeezed his fists until the emptiness evaporated completely.

“What the fuck?” he muttered under his breath for the umpteenth time that day. “What the honest fuck?” He didn’t know if the words were said to himself, to that kid, or to his empty pack of cigarettes.


	8. Chapter 8

Fourth class of the day and Kanda was angry. About something. He didn’t quite remember what it was, but he knew it was pissing him off. The teacher droned on about integrals and numbers and Kanda leaned back in his seat, long black hair pooling on the empty desk behind him as always.

He tipped his head back further and further until a shock of white hair entered his field of vision. He suddenly remembered what he was angry about. This little shit was in his last three classes of the day. This little shit had made himself unavoidable.

Kanda sat back up a marginal amount. Just enough that he couldn’t see Allen Walker, but not enough for his hair to be out of the kid’s way.

“Could you not do that?” a voice hissed behind him. Kanda didn’t move, but could feel a light tug as his ponytail was pushed off the desk.

“You’re really as mean as everyone says you are, aren’t you? I try to be nice and the best you can do is mock me for things I have no control over and keep me from taking math notes.”

Kanda jolted back up, pulled that damn glove out of his jacket pocket and turned in his seat to face Allen, who looked up just in time for the glove to smack him on the forehead. It slid onto his desk before Allen could even register what it was, but by then Kanda had already turned back around to feign interest in the numbers on the whiteboard.

“Thank you,” Allen muttered after a long few seconds, “…thank you for giving that back. I’ve only got two pairs.”

“Che.”

Kanda put his legs on his desk and leaned back again. Allen automatically pushed Kanda’s ponytail off of his notes while the teacher told Kanda to respect the school’s furniture and learning environment.

“Don’t get me wrong, I still think you’re a jerk,” Allen muttered.

“Good,” Kanda replied loud enough that everyone could hear. They turned to look at him and Kanda just counted the tiles on the ceiling, feet still propped up on his desk.


	9. Chapter 9

The nicotine seeped into his system, silk on his raw and frayed nerves. It was the first cigarette he had managed all day, this one bummed off the janitor. Tomorrow he would have enough money to buy another pack, but tomorrow was too far away.

He took a long drag with his eyes closed and savored the warm, soft, slow burn that came with it. There were footsteps ringing in his ears but he concentrated on the nearly inaudible sizzle that the embers emitted with each inhale.

“Wow, that’s cool! I didn’t notice that yesterday.” Kanda opened one eye. That fucking kid. With that red ribbon tied around his neck. And those damn gloves.

“Notice what?” he mumbled, cigarette hanging on his lip and arms crossed over his chest.

“You can blow smoke rings. That’s cool.”

Kanda said nothing. Allen was standing close. Too close. Kanda blew smoke into his face and took another languid drag as Allen coughed and waved his gloved hands in front of his face.

“I didn’t notice yesterday, I guess,” Allen repeated. His voice was strained. He coughed again.

“I wasn’t blowing smoke rings yesterday.” Kanda’s voice was impassive, but the corners of his mouth twitched. Allen stared. Allen swallowed.

“Oh,” he finally muttered.

The conversation ended and Kanda went back to nursing his cigarette until it had burned down to the filter.

 

He exhaled the last puff of smoke through his nose and opened his eyes. Allen was sitting on the ground in front of Kanda’s bench, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Kanda’s stomach growled. Nicotine didn’t make much of a lunch. Allen noticed.

“Do you want half of my sandwich?” he offered, holding up a section. Kanda said nothing. Instead, he leaned back against the brick wall—he was sitting on the backrest of the bench again—and put his foot on Allen’s back.

“You could just say you don’t want the sandwich,” Allen said quietly before taking a bite. Kanda silently pushed against the space between Allen’s shoulder blade and spine. Allen pushed back. But Kanda pushed back harder. Allen bowed forward under the pressure until his chest was nearly in his lap.

“Fine, I get the picture. Get your foot the hell of my back unless you want me to rip it off.”

Kanda shoved him one more time and dug his heel into Allen’s spine to confirm his victory. There was a muddy tan footprint smeared across Allen’s black coat when Kanda removed his foot. The corners of his mouth twitched again as Allen stood up, brown paper bag clenched in his left hand. What did that red hand look like when it was bare, naked, ungloved, and clenched in a fist?

“Asshole,” Allen muttered as he stalked away.

Kanda stared up but there were no ceiling tiles to count, only amorphous clouds. That pit in his stomach returned, this time tugging and pulling like a black hole until his eyebrows were knitted together and fingernails dug into his palms.

He needed another cigarette and left his bench to see if he could find one.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t/w: implications of child abuse, bullying

Kanda couldn’t say in all honesty that P.E. was his least favorite class. He hated all of his classes, but at least with P.E. he could usually get away with elbowing someone in the nuts. At least he didn’t have to sit in a desk. At least he didn’t have to talk.

But now that little shit was in the class with him.

Kanda peeled off his grey jacket and black tank top, shoving the clothes in his locker before yanking on his gym shirt. Everything in the locker room smelled like sweat and like too many teenage boys shoved into too small of space. Kanda turned around and scanned the room for—there. A shock of white hair in the opposite corner of the crowded locker room. He gritted his teeth.

Allen was facing the wall. He had already changed into his gym shorts, but kept glancing over his shoulder as he prepared to slip off his shirt. Their eyes met for a split second and Kanda felt an electric jolt pass through him before Allen looked down and away. Kanda shook his head and began to walk towards the door, but Allen somehow managed to stay in the corner of his eye despite not moving from the corner he was tucked away in.

Allen slid out of his shirt, careful to keep his left arm angled over his chest, but Kanda still felt something—his breath?—catch painfully in his chest. How hadn’t he noticed that the kid’s fingernails were black? How hadn’t he noticed the deep wrinkles in that hand? And it wasn’t just the kid’s hand that was fucked up. It was his entire arm.

Allen quickly tugged his gym shirt over his head, but Kanda’s eyes had already wandered away from his red arm, towards the large black, brown, yellow, green, blue, purple blemishes across his ribs, waist, back, “normal” arm.

Kanda opened his mouth but snapped it back shut before any words could escape. He shook his head and began walking towards the door again. It suddenly felt difficult to swallow and Kanda didn’t know why. He needed to sit down. He needed this sudden headache to go away. Those bruises…

Conversation fell to a whisper, then the room was silent. Kanda glanced over at Allen and saw all of the other boys in the room staring at the kid as he continued putting his shirt on. Allen wasn’t facing them, but Kanda could see him shivering and shaking.

Kanda looked away and kept walking.

“Hey! Give that back!”

He turned again to see Allen—suddenly half-naked—reaching for the t-shirt being held above his head. The boy, one of the tallest in the class, was dangling Allen’s shirt and laughing. It was a sharp bark of a sound that was quickly joined with more laughter.

“What the fuck’s up with your arm?” someone shouted.

Allen grabbed for his shirt again. His left arm was tucked behind his back in a vain attempt to keep it out of sight.

“Hey! Don’t touch me! You’ve got a disease or something, don’t you?” someone else called out.

“Please… just…” Allen kept reaching for his shirt. And he yelped as another boy pinned him against the locker and pulled his arm out from behind his back.

“John, you’re gonna get a disease or some shit! Why’re you touching it?”

“Dude!” the boy called out as he tugged Allen’s arm out for the crowd to see and ignored Allen wincing, the scar running down his face contorting in a graceless way, “what the fuck’s wrong with it? Did you forget to wash up after fisting a girl on her rag or—”

The only sound Kanda could hear was a wet gurgle, and it wasn’t until that moment that Kanda even realized he had slammed the boy against a locker and was pressing his forearm into the kid’s neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Allen huddled on the floor, shirtless, holding his red arm against his chest with his head bowed.

Kanda let go only when the boy’s fingernails digging into his arm began to draw blood and his panicked rabbit eyes looked like they were about to burst. Kanda spat at the boy as he let go and watched him slump to the floor.

Kanda shoved through the now-silent crowd and grabbed the shirt out of the tall boy’s hand. He threw it over his shoulder in Allen’s direction without a glance, then headed out into the gym. The swish of his ponytail, his footsteps against the wood floor, and the loud and ragged breathing of that boy in the locker room were the only sounds Kanda could hear, or even care to hear.

Kanda said nothing to Allen for the rest of the day, and ignored the kid as he followed Kanda down the same street as they had walked down the day before. Allen stayed far enough behind him that it was obvious to anyone who cared to look that they were strangers.


	11. Chapter 11

The skin was soft and warm beneath his hands. He could pierce it, crush it, destroy it, but instead ran the tips of his fingers across it and reveled in the small gasp his ministrations elicited.

“Kanda.” Hearing his own name sent shivers down his spine.

There were scalding lips searching across his flesh. He caught them with his own and licked at those lips, gently bit down on them, anything to draw out a throaty moan: anything to hear his name again. Mismatched hands were tugging on his hair, drawing him closer,and—

Kanda gasped and sat up, swallowing down the name that had been hanging dangerously loose on his lips while reality untangled itself from whatever the hell that dream was. It felt like he’d been underwater for years. He panted and pulled in as much oxygen as he could.

“What the fuck?” Kanda coughed. He leaned against the wall and pulled his knees to his chest.

“Nightmare?” a voice across the room asked. Kanda didn’t bother looking up. The wood paneling was cool against his flushed face.

“Yeah, you could call it that,” he muttered, “go back to sleep, Marie.”

“Sure you’re okay? You were moaning and muttering up a storm over there. It was a nightmare, right? Or…” Marie was too observant for his own good.

“It was a nightmare. Want me to tell you about it? Fuck off.”

Kanda was thankful for the silence that filled the room, until—

“Who’s Moyashi?”

Kanda buried his face in his hands. ”No one. It’s just a word. Go back to sleep before I bash your head in.”

Marie shut up and Kanda could hear him settling back into his bed.

Nightmare. Kanda was no stranger to haunting dreams, but this was different. His heart was pounding and the room was threatening to start spinning. He was shaking. His stomach hurt. He still couldn’t catch his breath. All the signs pointed to nightmare.

That hadn’t been a nightmare.

Kanda wanted a shower. He felt dirty, despite the fact that he had awoken before the dream held that strong of grip over him.

“What the fuck?” Kanda mumbled as he stood up and walked to the bathroom.

He didn’t go to school that day. He couldn’t look Allen Walker in the eye.


	12. Chapter 12

But somehow, that little shit showed up on the front porch anyways.

Kanda stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his bare chest and glaring at anything but the white-haired kid in front of him.

“What the fuck do you need, Moyashi? Aren’t you supposed to be at class or something? How the fuck did you even find this house?”

Allen shifted his backpack to the other shoulder and swallowed. Kanda considered putting a shirt on. He also considered shoving the kid against the wall and… punching him? Kanda wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, but shoving Allen against the wall felt like a good place to start.

”It wasn’t difficult to figure out where you lived,” Allen said with a smile. The scare curved across his cheek, following the swoop of his grin. ”I mean, we walk the same way home every day. I live a few blocks beyond you, but I see you stop at this house. I’m not stupid.”

Allen laughed, but Kanda clicked his tongue and looked down the road in the direction Allen had pointed. It was a rough neighborhood, but that wasn’t Kanda’s problem. It never would be.

“What the fuck do you want?” he asked again.

“Oh! I, um…” Allen looked down at his shoes, “I brought you the homework you missed from math, and in English we got assigned to do a project together. So I thought maybe we could get some work done on it today…” His head snapped up. Kanda resisted the urge to bury his fingers into that white hair, to smooth down the messy strands. He also resisted the urge to smack Allen across the face. Kanda pressed his hand against his own forehead and took a deep breath.

“Only if you have the time to work on it! I don’t mean to impose, but it’s due Friday… The teacher didn’t give us any notice because apparently it was in the syllabus, but I didn’t know…”

Kanda moved aside. ”Either come inside or shut the fuck up and go away.”

Allen nodded and shifted his backpack again as he stepped over the threshold. “Sorry about this, I know working with me on a project is probably the last thing you want to do.”

“Stop fucking apologizing,” Kanda said. He gestured at the couch as he walked in the opposite direction. He had to find a fucking shirt.

“Didn’t you wear that yesterday?” Allen asked when Kanda reemerged wearing a black tank.

“Yes, and shut the fuck up. Who the fuck cares anyways?”

Allen nodded and looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. A small stack of notebooks and textbooks lay beside him on the couch.

Kanda sat down on the floor opposite Allen, coffee table between them. Allen slid off the couch and onto the floor.

“So…” Allen muttered. He was still looking down at his hands. And blushing for some reason.

“What?”

“Are your parents home?” Allen glanced around the room, liquid mercury eyes catching on the paintings of plants that covered the walls. Tiedoll’s work. ”I like your art.”

“Stop asking questions. Get back to the fucking project. What the fuck is it even?” Kanda snapped. He wanted to get this done, get the beansprout the hell out of the house.

“Oh! Well, we’ve got to do a powerpoint on some biography.”

“Biography?”

“You know, a book someone wrote about someone else’s life.”

“I know what a fucking biography is, Moyashi.”

“What does Moyashi even mean?”

“Shut up. So we just pick a fucking book and talk about it or something?”

“Yeah, more or less… and it would probably improve our grade if you didn’t cuss while we presented…”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kanda replied. Allen smiled and laughed.

“Well, I was wondering if we could do a biography about Robert Mapplethorpe? His photography was amazing, and it would give us some good visuals for the presentation. If you’ve got a computer somewhere I could pull up some pictures. I’ve read a few biographies about him already, so—”

“I thought you were illiterate.”

“Don’t be mean! I’m just… kinda behind.” Allen looked back down at his lap.

Kanda leaned against the coffee table and snorted.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you think it’s funny that I’m behind?” Allen asked.

Kanda looked over at him and saw that he wasn’t staring down into his lap anymore. Without meaning to, Kanda met his eye. There was something…defiant about his gaze. And electric. Kanda looked away. He suddenly needed a cigarette. His chest felt weird.

Kanda clicked his tongue.

“It’s not my fault,” Allen said softly.

“It’s never anyone’s fault when you’re an idiot but your own.”

“And what the heck is that supposed to mean?” Allen’s voice was growing louder, and Kanda wasn’t sure he could even find an answer to that question.

“It means you’re an idiot,” he finally said.

“Stop calling me dumb. I’m not dumb.”

“Yes you fucking are.” Kanda wasn’t even paying attention to the words anymore. He just wanted to see the kid’s face get red; he just wanted to hear the kid yell. He just wanted to make Allen squirm.

“If I’m an idiot then you’re a… you’re a fucking cabbage.”

“Rather be a cabbage than an idiotic moyashi.”

“What does that even mean? You’ve been calling me this name and I can’t figure out what the hell it means. I even asked Lenalee—”

“Why did you ask Lenalee?”

“Because she speaks Chinese and I thought…”

“You think all Asians look alike and all Asian languages are the same, don’t you? I’m not Chinese, you dipshit.”

“That’s not what I meant! I just thought that, you know, with kanji and…”

“Fuck you.” Kanda stood up and pressed his heel against the coffee table, sliding it towards the couch in a single fluid motion so Allen was pinned.

“Kanda, what the hell?!” he gasped. He pushed against the table with his gloved hands, but Kanda pushed back, digging the edge of the table into Allen’s ribs.

He really needed a fucking cigarette.

“What on earth is this all about?” asked the bald young man standing in the doorway with a grocery bag in one hand, cane in the other. Kanda shoved past him.

“I don’t wanna deal with your shit right now, Marie.”

Kanda slammed the door so hard it bounced back open and hit his shoulder. He kicked the door and dented the cheap wood.

There were cigarettes hidden under one of Tiedoll’s potted plants, and Kanda retrieved them before collapsing on the porch steps. He could hear Allen and Marie talking inside.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t/w: violence/abuse

Kanda blew a smoke ring into the air and watched as the breeze tore it apart. He could feel some of the tension in his back floating away with the wisps of smoke.

“Sorry about him. He’s got a short temper. Didn’t know he had any friends though,” Kanda could hear Marie say inside the house. He clicked his tongue at himself. Who the fuck needed friends.

”Oh, well… I guess I’m not exactly his friend. He can’t stand me. But we’ve got a project we’re assigned to do together. I’m Allen Walker, by the way! Oh… I didn’t realize you were blind! So sorry! That was probably rude of me.”

Kanda found himself wondering what the hell Allen had tried to do. Probably shake hands with Marie. It was a common mistake.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. People forget all the time. Anyway, you can call me Marie. What were you two fighting about?”

“Oh, I think he thought I was being racist or something… He keeps calling me by a name that I don’t know, so I asked a Chinese girl if she knew what it meant, because I know Chinese and Japanese are pretty closely related… He wouldn’t give me a chance to explain, though.”

“He doesn’t usually. He’s got problems.” Marie laughed. Allen didn’t.

“That’s no excuse to be so mean,” Allen muttered.

“Try to go easy on him. He’s had a hard life, and could probably use a friend.”

Kanda nearly choked on his cigarette.

“Well, he’s got you, right? Are you his brother?”

The nicotine was making Kanda’s heart rate slow down, but he still wanted to go bash their heads together.

“Oh, well not really. We’ve just got the same foster father right now, but I’ve known Kanda for a long time.”

“Oh, you’re both in foster care? I didn’t know that… I just… I just don’t understand how someone can be so angry all the time. What’s he got against being happy? Or at least pretending?”

“Kanda’s not good at pretending. He’s honest. To a fault, at times. If he thinks you’re an idiot, he says so.”

Allen was silent.

“I just don’t get it…”

Let them talk shit behind his back. Kanda took another drag from his quickly shrinking cigarette. He didn’t give a fuck. Maybe if Allen knew, it would scare him away. Make things easier.

“Well… he’s been in the foster system since he was little,” Marie said after a moment of silence, “and he’s had… some of the worst homes. Things are better now, though; Froi Tiedoll is practically the best foster parent in the entire system. That’s probably why they moved Kanda here.”

“That’s…”

Kanda stiffened. That’s what?

“So… go easy on him. He needs a friend. Lord knows he won’t talk to me or Froi,” Marie said.

Kanda tried to take another drag from his smoke, but realized he had crushed it between his fingers. He threw it out onto the lawn and leaned against the porch railing instead. The math to calculate whether or not he should kill Marie didn’t exist at this juncture in time, and Kanda was bad at math anyways so he just pulled out another cigarette.

Maybe he should give up the cancer sticks and move to something boring like meditation.

The porch creaked behind him but he didn’t move. It was Allen. Marie knew better than to come bother him.

“Hey, Kanda?”

Kanda said nothing and continued puffing on his cigarette.

Allen sat down beside him on the steps. Although there was nearly a foot of space between them, it was still too close for comfort. He could almost feel Allen’s body heat radiating towards him. But Kanda couldn’t back down. He refused to scoot away.

“I didn’t realize the door was open,” Allen said. Kanda stared out at the street. “So… I’m guessing you heard me talking to Marie. Sorry about that. That was really… invasive. I’m sure you feel pretty violated. My curiosity just got a hold of me, I guess.”

Kanda watched a car drive past. He wanted to throw rocks at it.

“Well… I don’t know the details of what you’ve been through, but I’ve had a pretty… rough life too. At times. So if you ever want someone to talk to, I’m here,” Allen said.

Kanda finally looked over at Allen. His scar was curving across his cheek with his little closed-lip smile. He stared back at Kanda, unwaveringly. A challenge.

Kanda grit his teeth and grabbed Allen’s right hand, tugging it towards him.

“Kan…da?” Allen asked, but he didn’t resist, until Kanda pushed up Allen’s sleeve, tightened his grip on Allen’s hand until he could feel the bones straining under his fingers, and plucked the cigarette out of the corner of his mouth.

“Kanda, what—” Allen’s grey eyes were wide, panicked, and he tried to shove Kanda away with his foot.

“I don’t need your fucking pity,” Kanda finally hissed as he touched the burning end of the cigarette to Allen’s bare skin.


	14. Chapter 14

Allen ripped his arm away and slapped Kanda in the face.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Allen yelled, cradling his arm against his chest. Kanda could practically feel Allen’s heartbeat despite the distance between them. Those gray eyes were wide, and long white eyelashes restrained tears.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Allen repeated. His voice was quieter this time and he was looking down at his arm. Kanda tried to re-light the cigarette but the tip was badly mangled. Whose fault was that?

The porch creaked and sighed as Allen got to his feet and retreated inside, still holding his arm. Kanda could hear water running in the kitchen. He waited for Allen to run past him, run down the road, run away from him.

Instead, he heard the kid say from the doorway, “Well, are we going to work on that damn project or not?”

Kanda stood up and turned around. He raised an eyebrow and his mouth hung open for nearly a minute before he even managed to find words. After what he had just done, the idiot still wanted to work on their fucking project? And Allen was just standing there, still clutching his arm against his chest. Now both sleeves had been rolled up, revealing his skin-toned arm Kanda had hurt and the fucked up one. Allen didn’t see Kanda staring. He just looked down at his feet.

“What did you just say?” Kanda asked.

“I said… let’s go work on the project.”

“Get the fuck out. Get the fuck out of this house. Get the fuck away from me.”

Allen finally looked up. He was glaring at Kanda but his eyes were rimmed red and watery.

“I just wanted to be your friend, okay? But you’re such a horrible fucking asshole. Fine. I give up. Except no, I’m not going to give up. Because you’re right. I’m a fucking idiot, and I still want to be your friend. How stupid am I?”

Kanda blinked. ”Pretty stupid.”

“Thanks. Thanks for that.” Allen held up his arm, “And thanks for this. I didn’t have enough scars as it was. This’ll be a great addition to the collection.”

Allen disappeared inside and reappeared a second later with his backpack. He calmly waited for Kanda to step off the stairs before bolting down them.

“I don’t need anyone to fucking save me, you dipshit!” Kanda yelled after him.

“I’m not trying to fucking save you!” Allen yelled back.

Kanda kicked the door again, leaving yet another dent he’d have to explain to Tiedoll.


	15. Chapter 15

That Friday was the first day Kanda came back to class. He had told Tiedoll he was sick, which wasn’t far from the truth. His stomach hurt. So did his chest. He didn’t try to understand why.

But when fourth period came around and he took his seat in front of Allen Walker, the stomach pain came back twofold.

Allen refused to meet his eye and chose instead to stare down at the blank paper in front of him. Kanda wasn’t surprised when Allen didn’t say a single word to him. This was what he had wanted. He steeled himself to revel in the silence. But instead of feeling peaceful, everything was just… quiet. Kanda avoided trying to comprehend why he felt a strange pressure coursing through his veins whenever he thought about what had happened. What he had done.

Lunch was calm without Allen sitting by his bench. Kanda shoved his cigarettes back into his pocket and tried out meditating instead.

It almost worked.

During gym they were playing basketball again. Kanda didn’t pay attention to which team Allen was on because he didn’t plan on ever passing him the ball. It seemed like Allen didn’t expect Kanda to pay attention either.

But when the last day of class came, Allen slapped a set of index cards on their shared table.

“We’ve got our presentation today, remember?” Allen muttered when Kanda looked up at him. Allen stared down at his hands as they shuffled his own set of index cards.

“I… I was really careful with the powerpoint, and had the librarian look over it, so there shouldn’t be any spelling errors or anything. But some probably slipped in on the note cards. Sorry.” He sorted his index cards back into their original order. Kanda kept staring.

“I… I didn’t feel like making you fail. It’s worth fifteen percent of our grade,” he continued.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Kanda finally said. Allen kept shuffling his cards.

“No, I’m not. But you’re an asshole.” He glanced up at Kanda and pulled a smile onto his face. Kanda closed his eyes and bit his tongue. He felt sick. There was a bulge under the sleeve of Allen’s right arm. Probably a bandage.

The words on the index cards were poorly spelled but Kanda stumbled through them anyways. At least Mapplethorpe’s photography was interesting, to say the least.

Allen grinned at Kanda when the presentation was over, and Kanda glared back at him. But Allen just smiled wider.


	16. Chapter 16

Allen refused to walk behind Kanda, or in front of him, as they headed down the same street after school. No, he walked right next to Kanda, on Kanda’s left, and adjusted his pace to keep them side-by-side.

Kanda didn’t say a word to him, even when their arms bumped and Kanda could see Allen wince. Or was that a flinch? Allen didn’t say a word back, at least until Kanda turned off the sidewalk and headed down a dirt path into a wooded area.  
“Hey! Where’re you going?” Allen said. Kanda turned around to face the kid, who was still standing on the sidewalk.

“It’s a way to get to the house that doesn’t fucking involve you following me,” Kanda said. He turned around and kept walking.

“Oh!” Kanda could hear Allen running down the path to catch up. ”So it’s a shortcut to our neighborhood?”

Kanda flinched at the use of the word “our.” As if he shared, or ever wanted to share, anything with Allen.

“It’s not a damn short cut. It takes twice as long. And the point of me going this way was so I wouldn’t have to see you.”

“Tough shit!” Allen exclaimed. Kanda paused and looked over at Allen, who kept walking. The little shit was smiling. And he slowed down until he and Kanda were walking side-by-side again. This time, he was on Kanda’s right side.

With each step the sleeve of Allen’s shirt shifted a little, and Kanda caught a glimpse of a strip of red skin in the gap created between the bottom of the cuff and the top of his glove. The whiteness of the fabrics drew attention to Allen’s red skin, even though surely that was never his intention. Kanda tried to look down at the dirt path, or up at the trees around them, but his vision was repeatedly drawn to the revealed flesh. Crude though the locker room comment had been, Allen’s arm did indeed almost look like it was covered in blood. The thought made Kanda draw away for a second. But it wasn’t blood. It was just skin. Strange skin, but skin nonetheless.

Suddenly Kanda was staring at thin air. He looked up and around, finding Allen standing a few feet behind him.

“You wanna see my arm, don’t you?” Allen said. He had that calm smile plastered across his face again, but swallowed nervously and absentmindedly tugged on the left sleeve of his shirt, hiding the red from Kanda’s eyes.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Kanda asked. He turned to face Allen fully.

“You were staring at my arm right now. You didn’t even notice when I asked you if this was a jogging trail.”

Kanda looked to the side and shook his head. ”You’re an idiot.”

“You keep saying that.”

Kanda’s eyes wandered back to Allen’s face. He was sitting on a park bench now, undoing the buttons of his shirt. His gloves lay on the bench next to him.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Kanda shouted. Allen said nothing, and Kanda held his ground and watched as Allen’s chest was uncovered. The bruises Kanda had seen before were nearly faded. His stomach felt loose for some reason. The feeling wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

“I’m showing you my arm. So maybe you won’t be scared of it anymore.”

“Only an idiot would be scared of a goddamned arm.”

“Agreed.” Allen finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled his left arm out of the sleeve. He held his hand out to Kanda. Kanda was willing to bet it was the only red thing in the entire park. Hell, he had never even seen that shade of red anywhere else in the entire world. Deep and dark like blood but somehow… tranquil. How could a color be calm?

“I’m not going to touch your arm. What do I look like?”

Allen shrugged. ”I know you’re curious. It’s okay. It’s not diseased or anything. Well, I mean, it is, but it’s not anything contagious.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Dear God, do you know any words other than “fuck”? …I don’t know how to pronounce what it’s called. And no, I can’t spell it either,” Allen said with a sudden small smile, “but basically the skin isn’t right.”

“I can see that.”

“It’s like… the skin’s too thick. In a way. It doesn’t mess with my mobility at all, though. But I have to be really careful to put lotion on it, otherwise the skin cracks and it’s really painful. It’s pretty much a regular arm except for how it looks. And it doesn’t feel like normal skin, too, I guess.”

Kanda stepped closer and looked down at Allen’s outstretched arm.

“I know it’s freaky-looking though,” Allen continued, “It’s why my parents abandoned me when I was born, I’m willing to guess. They probably thought I was a demon or something, showing up with a bloody arm like this…” Allen’s voice trailed off. He was still smiling, but began to pull his arm back.

Kanda reached out and grasped his hand. The skin was thick, leathery, and warm. He didn’t know what he had expected, but he hadn’t expected this heat. It was somehow scalding, even though it didn’t burn Kanda’s fingers.


	17. Chapter 17

Leather was the only word Kanda could conjure up to describe the skin of Allen’s hand. It was thick and smooth. There were crevices and swells in the skin, wrinkles befitting someone decades older than sixteen. Kanda could feel the pulse of Allen’s wrist under his thumb. It was frantic, like a rabbit heart. But as Kanda traced his fingers along Allen’s forearm, exploring him, the pulse slowed.

The flesh wasn’t marred by any bruises or scars, or at least it didn’t appear to be. Kanda wasn’t even sure what that would look like on this strange surface. He could only focus on how smooth, warm, and red it was. How strange it was.

It wasn’t until Kanda felt a puff of air on his forehead that he looked up.

All he could see was Allen’s half-lidded, welcoming eyes, and slightly parted lips curved into a soft smile. Those lips were probably warm too, like this arm.

Kanda felt his his eyes start close before he jerked away and stumbled backwards. He caught himself before he fell to the ground. His palms felt sweaty. Everything felt sweaty.

How the fuck had they gotten that close?

Allen blinked. ”Kan…da?”

Kanda shoved one hand in his pocket and rubbed the back of his neck with the other. The dirt rose up in little puffs as he stepped away.

“What the fuck was that?” Allen yelled. Kanda spun around to see Allen walking—stomping—towards him while he buttoned his shirt and re-tied that damn ribbon.

“What, did you think I was a fag or some shit?” Kanda shouted.

“And what’s wrong with being gay?” Allen shouted back.

Kanda looked down at the path and kicked a rock. ”Nothing,” he mumbled.

“Kanda,” Allen said. His voice was suddenly soft and low. When he didn’t continue, Kanda cautioned a glance. Allen’s arms were hanging limply at his sides, and he was staring at Kanda. Those grey eyes were unnerving. Kanda felt sweaty again.

He shook his head and began walking away.

“Kanda!” Allen shouted.

“Stop fucking shouting at me, Moyashi! It’s annoying!” Kanda yelled over his shoulder.

“I don’t understand you! You act like you like me one minute, then the next you’re a complete dick!”

Kanda turned around so he could yell at Allen, but walked backwards while he did so. He wanted the fuck out of this park, he wanted the fuck away from Allen Walker. ”And you’re a fucking idiot! I fucking burned your goddamned arm and you aren’t even mad at me? What the fuck is wrong with you, Moyashi? Will you just roll over and let anyone do whatever the fuck they want to you?”

Allen stopped walking. Kanda narrowly avoided tripping over a rock and came to a halt as well.

“I am angry at you! You’re a complete jackass, and I am angry at you! But just because you hurt me doesn’t mean I’m going to be an asshole like you!” Allen yelled back. His eyes were watering. Kanda refused to look away. Allen’s eyes looked like either rainclouds or thunderstorms.

“And I know you’re sorry,” Allen continued, “And that means a lot to me!” His voice cracked.

“What the hell makes you think I’m sorry?!” Kanda could feel his voice quieting. He tried to force it back into a yell.

“Because you look sad whenever you look at me! I can tell! And you didn’t come to school and you did your best to avoid me and… I know you regret it! You’re an asshole, but you know what guilt is! Don’t get me wrong though, I’m still mad at you! And it’s gonna take a lot for me to forgive you!”

Kanda clenched his fists and took a step back.

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think I feel bad!”

“I’m not an idiot! Stop calling me an idiot!”

“Yes you are! You’re just… you’re fucking dumb! I can’t even understand how dimwitted you are! No wonder you don’t have any fucking friends!”

“You’re my friend, you jackass!”

“No I’m fucking not! What’s it going to take for you to understand that? I don’t want a friend, I don’t need a friend, especially not one with a nasty fucked-up disease arm like you!”

Allen said nothing. Kanda could hear the wind rattling leaves in the trees and birds chirping somewhere behind him, but Allen said nothing. Instead, Allen stared down at his hand. He had forgotten to put his gloves back on.

“Fuck you,” Allen finally spit, and he ran back towards the street, back the way they had come.

Kanda watched him leave without a word. Only when Allen was long gone did Kanda kick the rock that had nearly tripped him earlier and mutter, “fuck.”


	18. Chapter 18

Kanda’s heart was still pounding, each thump trying to shed the last vestiges of the dream. He forced his eyes to remain open. He didn’t know what sort of flashback images would pass through his mind if he closed them. The cold wall against his brow was starting to bring his body temperature down, but everything still felt too hot. He was clammy, sweaty, and… he inhaled as much oxygen as he could and buried his hands in his hair.

He needed a shower. A change of clothes, too.

Kanda would have tracked down Allen Walker and eviscerated him right on the spot if certain parts of his mind weren’t steadfastly focused on doing other things to Allen.

Kanda got out of bed and stalked to the bathroom. Marie was still asleep, or at least politely pretending to be. Kanda was strangely thankful that Marie was blind; even if he looked over now, he wouldn’t be able to see the shame burning on Kanda’s cheeks and stinging at his eyes.

Kanda stayed in the shower until he was shivering so hard he could barely breathe. Only then did he drag himself back to bed and burrow under every spare blanket in the house.

Kanda’s throat felt like it was made of cotton when he sat down at his desk that Monday in math class. The desk behind him—Allen’s desk—was empty. Out of the corner of his eye, Kanda tracked the ticking of the second hand on the clock. He didn’t care where Allen was. He didn’t care if Allen showed up or not. No, the second hand was just really fascinating, Kanda decided.

But when the door slammed Kanda looked up. Allen handed the teacher a tardy pass and politely apologized before worming his way through the rows of desks to the spot behind Kanda.

The air in the room was suddenly strangely light. Allen didn’t acknowledge him but he still sat behind Kanda. Maybe…

No. Kanda glanced around. There were literally no other empty desks, except for a few spots where kids had piled their backpacks or kicked up their feet.

Allen was just too polite to sit anywhere else.

There were words trapped in Kanda’s throat but he wasn’t sure what they were.

Kanda leaned back in his desk, letting his hair fall onto Allen’s notebook. He felt Allen shove it off the desk without a sound. Kanda sat back up and glanced behind him. Allen’s brows were knitted as he stared intently at his paper, but he wasn’t even writing anything down. Kanda fought against the impulse to hook his finger under Allen’s chin and force his face up so he could see those fucking silver eyes and say… something.

Kanda turned back away and watched the clock until class ended. He needed a cigarette. His stomach was hollow.


	19. Chapter 19

Allen didn’t sit with Kanda at lunch. Allen wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Kanda’s bench felt strangely… isolated. His only companion was the occasional smoke ring. It was a boring spot, Kanda decided. That was the problem. Nothing else.

He got up and headed across the quad. The grass was dried, dead, and crunchy under his feet. He disrupted a soccer game and kicked the ball in the opposite direction when it rolled in front of him.

On the other side of campus, Kanda found a tree with a white-haired boy sitting under it alone. He was leaning against the trunk and quietly chewing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The wind kept running through his messy hair, tossing it from side to side. Allen didn’t seem to notice. Someone needed to smooth his hair down.  
Kanda wanted to turn around and walk away, but it was like the roots of the tree had somehow wrapped around his legs and pinned him there. He could barely move. He kept staring. And when Allen looked up at him, he was paralyzed. Allen’s eyes were hard and icy.

Kanda managed to open his mouth to say something—anything—but then the bell rang and Allen looked down and away. He stood up, picked up his backpack, and crumpled the bag in his hand. There was nothing for yards around them, but Allen still managed to brush past Kanda as he walked away without a word. The sudden flight of warmth through Kanda’s body freed him from his frozen stupor, and he slowly followed Allen—at a great distance—to their gym class.

Someone had Allen pinned against the wall when Kanda walked into the locker room. The boys were saying things about his arm, making crude comments and joking about it being a sexually transmitted contagion of sorts. Someone was holding Allen’s shirt above his head again. No one commented on the bruise across Allen’s ribs. Kanda stood in the doorway and watched silently. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

Allen kicked the boy pinning him in the shin and shoved another away. He demonstrated that punch he had warned Kanda of. The boys backed off. Kanda shifted out of the doorway but kept watching. Allen looked up and stared back for a single second. He bit his lip and rubbed his eyes before scooting out of the locker room. Their shoulders brushed.

When Kanda finished changing and went out into the gym all the boys were sitting on the floor. He scanned for an empty spot and his eyes landed on the one next to Allen at the very back of the group. There were other places he could sit.

Kanda took the spot next to Allen. Kanda glanced over and saw him gently fiddling with the bottom hem of his shorts. He looked down at the floor, away from Kanda. Was he nervous? About what? In that t-shirt, Allen’s arm was bare for everyone to see. He held it closer to his body than his normal arm. Kanda vaguely remembered how warm it had been. He absentmindedly ran the tips of his fingers along the palm of his own hand.

Allen’s other arm sported another bruise. It was shaped like a hand, fingers digging into his forearm. Kanda wanted to know. He focused on the bruise and tried to ignore the bandage covering a small burn mark a few inches above it.

“Dodgeball!” the teacher said, louder than necessary as always, “two teams, have at it!”

Everyone was suddenly up, grabbing for balls and throwing them. Teams hadn’t been determined. Or rather… Team A was Allen, Team B was everyone else.

Allen was already on his feet and somehow untouchable. The balls practically spun out of his way as he dodged them, caught them, and ducked away from them. He was fast. His long limbs didn’t trip him up the way Kanda would have expected. His feet pounded against the floor and long blood-red fingers pushed messy white hair out of his eyes.

Kanda looked towards the office. The teacher was sitting in there, on the phone, her back to the chaos unfolding in her class.

Allen was holding his own though. Kanda stepped further away from the fray and crossed his arms over his chest. Allen made few false steps, Kanda observed, and quickly corrected them.

But then someone aimed a ball at his ankle, and Allen didn’t see it in time. He slammed to the floor. The fall knocked the air out of him and he panted and gasped. The boys didn’t back off. They kept throwing balls at Allen, who curled into a ball and laced his fingers against the back of his neck. A hit landed square on his spine and he yelped.

Kanda unfolded his arms and caught one of the balls that had missed Allen. He threw it back and hit a boy hard in the chest. He caught another one as he walked back into the fray and launched it at the tall kid who had stolen Allen’s shirt before.

Allen sat up behind him and Kanda glanced over his shoulder. The boys quickly stopped directing all their efforts at Allen and dispersed into some semblance of evenly-divided teams. Allen looked up at Kanda for a second. His warm thunderstorm eyes made Kanda’s chest hurt and he winced. Allen looked down and away. His face was suddenly red. Kanda walked back to the locker room without a word.


	20. Chapter 20

They took the same route home, as always. Allen did like what he had done the last time; he walked side-by-side with Kanda, and refused to fall behind or go ahead. Kanda was tempted to turn down that jogging trail to see if he could lose the kid, but considering how well that had gone before…

So instead he let Allen walk next to him. Silently. And he watched the beansprout out of the corner of his eye the entire time. So when Allen absent-mindedly pressed his hand against his rib cage and winced, Kanda noticed. He stopped walking and took a deep breath.

Allen stopped too, and turned to face him. ”Kanda?”

“Moyashi, we need to talk,” Kanda said.

Allen nodded. ”I’ll say.”  
“What… what’s that supposed to mean?” Kanda asked before looking away and shaking his head. He reached out and grabbed Allen’s right wrist. Allen tried to jerk away, but Kanda held his grip firm.

“Kanda! Let the fuck go of me!”

“Calm the fuck down, I’m not going to hurt you.” Kanda pushed Allen’s sleeve up and noticed Allen’s eyes were starting to water. Allen kept pulling his wrist away, harder with each tug.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Kanda repeated, careful to keep his voice level. ”Who the fuck did this to you?” He pointed at the bruise he had spotted during gym class.

“It’s from dodge ball,” Allen muttered. He pulled his hand away and pushed the sleeve back down. Kanda let the fleeting warmth of Allen’s arm escape. ”I got it earlier today.”

“Bullshit. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“Yes.”

“I can give you more bruises, if that’s what you want.” Kanda bit his lip as soon as the words escaped. Allen took a step back.

“Wait, Moyashi, I didn’t—”

“I live with a drunk, okay? Him and his friends get rowdy, I get caught in the middle of things sometimes, and stuff like this happens.” Allen gestured at his arm.

Kanda blinked. ”Moyashi?”

“He’s the closest thing I’ve got to family. He’s all I’ve got left. I’ve been alone, I’ve lived on the streets alone, okay? I’m never doing that again. So… just leave it. Okay? Just leave it alone.” Allen turned on his heel and walked away, but Kanda pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down at his shoes.

This little shit was going to be the end of him.


	21. Chapter 21

Kanda felt the need to slam the door behind him when he arrived at the house. He leaned against the wood when the door clicked shut and slid down it. It was cold against his back, and his shirt had bunched up so his bare skin was flush with the polished surface. Kanda sat in the entry way with his legs tucked up against his chest and his forehead resting on his knees. Somehow, everything smelled like Allen Walker. Fresh, soft, warm. Sunbathed sheets on a newly made bed.

He took a deep breath.

How the fuck did he even know what Allen smelled like?

“Rough day?” Marie called from the living room.

“Shut up,” Kanda said into his jeans.

“Well, I’ve got some bad news.”

Kanda looked up. ”What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” He pulled himself to his feet. His joints and limbs and skin felt worn and tired and had an over-extended sort of flexibility. Like worn putty. Dodge ball shouldn’t have taken that much out of him. He barely did anything.

Marie was sitting on the couch, flipping absentmindedly through one of his Braille books. He wasn’t actually bothering to read anything.

“What?” Kanda folded his arms and glared at Marie who, of course, did not see the gesture.

“Well, you know Froi’s at one of his artist retreats right now.” Marie gestured at the empty corner which usually held their foster father’s easel and paints. Kanda said nothing.

“He got a call earlier today,” Marie continued. ”He can’t get a flight back for a few more days, but I told him I’d relay the message for him. He sends his extreme condolences that he can’t tell you in person, and would like you to call him as soon as you can.”

Kanda scoffed. ”Fine, whatever. What?”

“Well, Social Services contacted him. They’ve got a new kid that they think really needs to be with someone like Froi. I believe they said his name’s Chaoji? He’s about your age, I think.”

“Marie, get to the fucking point. I don’t care about any kid.” Kanda could feel his throat tightening up, concrete on muscles, but ignored it.

“Well, Froi’s only got room for two foster kids…”

“Marie.”

“They’re sending you to another foster home at the end of the week. It’s a few towns over. I know usually you don’t care, but… it seemed like you were starting to like it here.”

Kanda didn’t balk at or deny the last part because he didn’t hear it. He leaned against the wall and breathed out until his lungs ached.

“You okay?” Marie asked.

It took Kanda too long to answer convincingly. His voice was flat. ”Of course I’m okay. I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure. When have I ever fucking cared?”

Kanda dropped his messenger bag on the floor and wandered into the kitchen. He pressed his forehead against the cold metal of the fridge and wished he had something more potent than just cigarettes.

“Fucking wonderful,” he muttered. Either Marie didn’t hear him, or he was too polite to comment.

 

That night, at fifteen past eleven, Kanda finally accepted that he couldn’t fall asleep. No real reason why, he decided. He felt tired; his arms and legs and every joint were sore. The ceiling offered no answers.

Kanda rolled onto his side. Marie’s bed across the room was empty; he was still in the living room, reading. Probably trying to give Kanda space.

The bed suddenly felt half its size. The room was too small. The air had forgotten how to flow. Kanda sat up and rummaged around on the floor for his jeans. He needed the fuck out of this house. He needed the fuck out of this city. Only for right now though. Not… forever.

“Where are you going?” Marie asked.

“Out.” Kanda walked past him and started tying his hair back.

“It’s eleven o’clock at night.”

“I’ll be back whenever the fuck I feel like it.” Kanda slammed the door. The air was crisp. He tried to blow a ring using his own breath, but the air couldn’t support it as well as it could cigarette smoke. So he pulled out a cigarette and jumped off the porch.


	22. Chapter 22

The grass already had ice crystals collecting on it. His breath created a white fog. Same color as Allen’s hair, Kanda realized. He swatted at the fog with his fingertips and tore it apart until it dissipated.

That jogging trail—the one he and Allen had walked down—was nearly always empty this time of night. Sometimes, out after dark, Kanda would come across people making out or doing more private things in the bushes. He’d just keep walking until they were out of sight, out of earshot, out of mind.

There was a shape sprawled along one of the benches, Kanda noted as he began to approach it. He could see their boots and jeans. Whoever it was had their upper torso blanketed with a black jacket. Not near thick enough for this weather. Kanda blew another puff of air into the night.

“Che, fucking homeless,” he muttered. Poor bastard.

As Kanda passed the bench he spotted a shock of white hair poking out from under the top of the jacket. An old man, no doubt.

He paused and turned back around. ”Moyashi.”  
The lump under the jacket jerked and sat up, mismatched fists cocked and aimed at nothing in particular.

“Stupid fucking Moyashi! What the fuck are you doing out here in the middle of the night?” Kanda yelled.

Allen turned to blink at him. His grey eyes were only a few shades darker than his white hair. Combined, they made him look like winter itself. He nearly glowed in the suffocating darkness.

“Kanda?” he said slowly, lowering his fists. ”What are you doing here?”

“I fucking asked you first.”

“I…” Allen looked down into his lap, “I kinda got kicked out. For the night. It… happens sometimes. Cross had a few women over and, well, they didn’t exactly need a kid around to… bother them.”

“Che.” Kanda closed his eyes. Fucking bastard. ”So you’re going to fucking sleep on a park bench? Get molested by some vagabond?”

“Kanda, I’ve done this before. I know how to survive on the streets.”

Kanda looked back to Allen and caught those damn eyes. Silver, grey, fucking moonlight. Kanda couldn’t decide how to describe the color. Why was it so important that he know what color Allen’s eyes were? ”Get up.”

Allen didn’t move. ”Why?”

“Just get the fuck up. You’ll die if you sleep on this damn park bench.”

“No I won’t,” he said softly.

Kanda’s jaw tightened and he felt his fingernails bite into his palms.

“Damnit, Moyashi. Will you just fucking listen to me? Or would you rather sleep out here in the cold?”

Allen looked back down at his lap. He buried his hands under his jacket. The scar on his cheek contorted with his furrowed brow. ”Kanda, it’s okay.”

“No it’s fucking not. Just get up.” Kanda began to create a mental list of other ways to berate Allen into getting off his ass. Allen, however, pulled his jacket on and buried his hands in his pockets. He didn’t have his gloves, Kanda realized belatedly.

“I guess… If you insist.” Allen looked up at Kanda and grinned with his eyes closed. Cheshire cat-like, almost. Kanda suddenly felt like he wasn’t wearing enough layers of clothes. He bit his lip and turned around. Allen followed him back to the house in silence with quiet, shuffling footsteps. The winter air felt oddly light.


	23. Chapter 23

Kanda slammed the door open and walked (stomped) into the house. Allen stepped in after him, hands still jammed in his pockets. His shoulders were hunched.

“Um, Kanda? Shouldn’t we be quieter? I mean, it’s pretty late…” Allen mumbled, barely above a whisper.

“Froi’s not home,” Kanda said. He stepped into the living room, where Marie still sat, reading, and called out, “Oi, he’s staying here tonight.”  
Marie looked up and nodded. ”Allen, I’m guessing?”

“Oh, yeah. Um, how’d you know?” Allen asked. He stepped out from behind Kanda.

“Kanda doesn’t exactly have that many friends. And I recognized your voice.”

Allen let out a nervous laugh.

“He’s not my fucking friend,” Kanda mumbled. Nobody seemed to hear him.

“Where’s he sleeping?” Marie asked. His voice had a cautious tone Kanda couldn’t quite understand.

He shrugged. ”Wherever. It’s better than outside. Found the little shit sleeping on a park bench.”

Allen knotted his fingers together and looked down.

“Oh. Well, he can sleep on the floor in our bedroom. I’m fine with that. It gets too cold out here late at night,” Marie offered.

Kanda shrugged. ”Whatever.”

“You guys… you don’t really have to—”

Kanda was about to tell Allen to shut it when the kid was silenced by a low rumble. Allen put his hand over his stomach and grinned. ”Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“Was that your _stomach_?” Kanda asked.

“Sorry… Don’t worry about it; I can get some food tomorrow, probably.”

Kanda ripped his jacket off over his head and threw it on the coat hook.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing Allen’s coat by the elbow and yanking him towards the kitchen. The fabric, pinched between his fingertips, was warm from Allen’s body heat despite the winter chill outside.


	24. Chapter 24

“So, what’re we making?” Allen asked. He leaned against the counter and smiled while watching Kanda open one of Tiedoll’s cupboards.

We?

“Soba,” Kanda muttered. He pulled a packet of noodles off a shelf.

“Soba? What’s that?” Allen left the counter and came to stand behind Kanda, peeking over his shoulder at the packet. His breath skated across the back of Kanda’s neck and it took him a second longer than it should have to flinch away.  
“Buckwheat noodles. And stop with the fucking twenty questions, do you want food or not?”

Allen moved away and leaned against the back door. ”Just tell me if you need my help. And… thank you. This is really… really nice of you.”

Kanda froze for a strained second, fingers latched around the handle of the fridge door. Then, before Allen had a chance to notice—or before he had a chance to say something else stupid—Kanda ripped the door open and dug around for some tofu. He gestured at the sink. ”Grab a pot from under there and put some water in it.”

Allen’s shoes squeaked across the floor and Kanda pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead. What the fuck was he doing, helping and maybe even worrying about this little shit? He grabbed the packet of tofu and stood up.

“Okay, what now, I ah—”

Kanda stepped back from the fridge and Allen slammed into him mid-sentence.

The pot clattered onto the floor and suddenly Kanda was freezing. He pulled on the front of his shirt and squeezed the fabric. Water seeped and spilled out between his fingers.

“Oh, Kanda! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Goddamnit, Moyashi!” Kanda said. Not as loudly as he had intended, though.

Allen bent down and picked up the pot. Somehow, he had managed to not get any water on himself. ”I’m sorry, I—”

Kanda pulled off his shirt and stepped over to the sink to wring it out. ”Just… Just clean up the water. There’re towels in the bottom cupboard by the stove. Fill the pot back up and put it on the stove.”

Kanda was soaking wet, with droplets of water wandering down his chest and shoulders and hips to catch on the hem of his jeans. He glanced behind himself and saw Allen, standing in the puddle of water pot-in-hand, staring at… him. Allen slowly dragged his eyes up and found Kanda’s face. The beansprout promptly started blushing. They grey of Allen’s wide eyes had practically been swallowed by his pupils. Kanda blinked and his breath didn’t want to leave his lungs.

Suddenly Allen ducked his head and hunched his shoulders. His mismatched fingers fumbled with the rim of the pot. He nearly dropped it again. His blush didn’t recede.

Kanda realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt and instead it was soaking wet in his hands over the sink and he was soaking wet too. How the hell had that happened? Had he honestly just stripped in front of Moyashi?

Allen stepped aside, practically shrinking, when Kanda walked past and headed for the bedroom. He passed through the living room with his shirt draped over his shoulder. Water was leaking down his bare back, where the skin suddenly felt too sensitive. His spine was somehow hooked up to the city’s power grid. He could feel his heartbeat resonating in every bone of his body.

“Moyashi?” Marie asked quietly. Kanda stopped and turned to where Marie was sitting.

“What?”

“You called him Moyashi.” Marie raised an eyebrow.

“So? He’s a fucking beansprout. You’re blind and surely you can see that. What the hell else am I supposed to call him?”

“…I think I’m going to go over to Miranda’s for the night,” Marie said after a second. He dug in his pocket, pulled out a cell phone, and started dialing.

“What? Okay, whatever.” Kanda started heading towards the bedroom so he could get the fuck out of the wet clothes. Allen dropped something in the kitchen and Kanda paused. ”Moyashi?”

“Oops! Sorry! I’ll clean it up!” Allen called out. There was another loud bang and some light cursing. Marie was saying something to Miranda on the other line.

“I’ll give you two some space for the night,” Marie said quietly once he closed his phone. ”Miranda’s gonna be here to pick me up in a few.”

“Space? Marie, what the fuck are you—” Kanda’s heart skipped a beat. He turned around to face Marie. ”No. Marie, that is _not_ what’s fucking going on here—”

There was water running in the kitchen again. Allen said something but Kanda couldn’t hear it well enough to understand what he’d said.

“Kanda, it’s okay. You’re allowed to… like someone.” Marie said. He smiled. Like he was fucking proud of Kanda for some godforsaken reason.

Kanda balled up his fists and pressed them against his forehead. The wet shirt slid off his shoulder and landed on the ground with a loud _slop_.

“I do not fucking like that goddamn beansprout! He is not _spending the fucking night_ like my goddamned _boyfriend_ or some shit,” he hissed out between his teeth. ”Are you a fucking moron?”

Marie raised an eyebrow again. ”Kanda,” Marie said, his voice low and calm as always, “You’ve been muttering that name in your sleep for the past few weeks.” He looked down and frowned slightly. ”I’m sorry… they’re making you leave now.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Kanda ripped the shirt off the floor and kicked the bedroom door open. Marie was still talking behind him. Water was still running in the kitchen. He threw his shirt onto the window sill to dry and took a deep, slow breath. His heart was pounding and his blood was throbbing through his veins in painful waves. Marie was lucky they were moving him, because Kanda would fucking kill him if he got the chance. Or kill Allen. Both were likely candidates at this point.

He leaned out the window over his wet shirt and smoked a cigarette down to the filter.

Miranda was standing in the entry way when Kanda reemerged from the bedroom. She was fumbling with her keys and narrowly avoided dropping them. Always so damn nervous.

“Hey, Kanda,” she said with a weak smile. He ignored her and went into the kitchen. Allen was on his knees, wiping down the kitchen floor with a towel. There was a small pile of wet towels next to him.

“How the fuck did you use that many towels?” Kanda asked.

“Oh, I, um… I spilled the pot again.” He laughed nervously and rubbed his hands together. No gloves. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, red deformed arm on display. ”It’s on the stove though! That’s where it was supposed to end up, right?”

Kanda checked the pot and dumped the packet of soba noodles into it. Allen probably—hopefully—hadn’t heard the stupid shit Marie had said. Marie was soft-spoken and respectfully quiet when discussing things like… that. And Kanda had mostly hissed things under his breath in response.

The door slammed and Allen looked up. ”Did Marie just leave? It’s almost midnight!”

“Going over to his girlfriend’s house for the night,” Kanda muttered. He stirred the noodles.

“Oooh, taking advantage of Froi’s absence, I take it?!” He laughed and Kanda shivered. ”So I guess it’s just the two of us!”

“Something like that.” Kanda continued stirring the noodles and pointed to the cupboard under the sink without looking up. ”Get a pan, put the tofu in it.”

Allen laughed again and started rummaging through the cupboard.


	25. Chapter 25

Allen ate all of the soba that Kanda didn’t touch, and tried to hide his disappointment when he realized there was none left. The kid, Kanda had learned, was a fucking vacuum when it came to food. When was the last time he had eaten? How the hell had he been surviving with a single peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch? Was that guy—Cross or whatever—even giving him enough food? His manners flew out the window nearly as fast as the food flew down his throat, too.

Kanda dumped the dirty dishes in the sink as soon as Allen was done inhaling everything but the dishes themselves.

“Oh, do you want me to wash those?” Allen, still sitting at the cramped kitchen table, asked.

“Don’t bother, they can wait until morning. I’m gonna go get ready for bed, you do… whatever.” Kanda stood in the kitchen for a second, staring at Allen, before he retreated to the bedroom. He was sleeping fully clothed, in his fucking jeans. And if he had another one of those goddamned dreams tonight…Kanda grumbled half-words to himself as he pulled spare blankets out of Froi’s linen closet. He knew Marie wouldn’t care—probably—if Allen slept in his temporarily-vacant bed, but he also knew the little shit was too polite to do that. So Kanda laid out as many blankets as he could find on the narrow space between his bed and Marie’s.

“This room’s too fucking small,” Kanda muttered. Allen was going to be sleeping too damn close to him and there was a very limited list of things he could do about that.

He pulled a spare pillow off his bed and threw it on the blankets, then returned to the kitchen. Allen had his sleeves pushed up and was fighting his way through a sinkfull of bubbles. Kanda half-shouted over the running water, “Oi. I’m going to bed. There are blankets and shit on the floor.”

Allen looked up and smiled a closed-lip grin so big he couldn’t maintain it and keep his eyes open at the same time. ”Oh, thank you!” he finally said when he broke the smile. He turned off the faucet and whiped his hands off on a towel. ”Great timing, I just finished!”

Kanda turned around and returned to the bedroom. Allen followed. His footsteps were light and annoying.

Kanda sat on the bed and yanked his hair out of his ponytail. He ran his fingers through it, untangling and ripping at any knots he found until he got fed up and actually used a comb. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Allen stripping down to his boxers and carefully folding his clothes. The bruises were still there, albeit a shade lighter. It wasn’t anything Kanda hadn’t seen before, thanks to their shared gym class, but Kanda still looked down and away. This was different. This was weird. His stomach kept clenching and unclenching with spasms that weren’t exactly painful.

“Oh… Wow.”

Kanda looked up. Allen was standing next to him—too close to him—read hand outstretched. He was seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was only wearing boxers. Kanda leaned away and glared. Allen withdrew.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “but your hair… I, um, didn’t realize how long it was, I guess.” He was blushing again, although not as harshly as before, and seemed to suddenly realize how very close to naked he was. He yanked back the first few layers of blankets on the floor and scooted under them. ”Um… well… goodnight.”

“Che.” Kanda put his comb down on the nightstand and turned off the light.

“Oh, you sleep in your jeans?” Allen asked.

“Yes. Go the fuck to sleep and stop saying stupid shit.”

“Sorry,” Allen muttered. Kanda could tell he didn’t mean it. He smirked.

“Is this your pillow?” Allen asked after a second, once Kanda had crawled under his own covers.

Kanda groaned. ”Do you need a different one, you fucking baby?”

“No, it’s fine. It just… smells like you, I guess.” He paused for a second, but Kanda waited for him to continue. ”Thank you… for letting me sleep here. Really.”

Kanda stared up at the ceiling with his arms hugging his chest. There was no fucking way he was getting any sleep.

After an hour of staring up at nothing and listening to Allen breathing, Kanda looked down at the floor, at Allen. He was dead asleep, Kanda was sure of it. One of Allen’s hands was curled around the edge of the pillow, and what Kanda could see of his mouth kept twitching into something that resembled a soft smile. His face was nearly buried in the pillow, and he had rolled and scooted until he was at the very edge of the blanket pile, dangerously close to Kanda’s bed.

“Oi,” Kanda said under his breath, “Moyashi?”

No answer.

Kanda moved so he was lying on his stomach and peeking over the edge of the mattress at Allen below him. A few strands of his hair fell and brushed against Allen’s cheek. Allen gently swatted them away without waking.

Before he even had a chance to think about it, Kanda reached a hand out and advanced towards Allen. He froze when he realized what he was doing, but then let his fingers slowly run through the messy white hair. It was soft, softer than Kanda had imagined. He buried his hand deeper, pads of his fingertips skimming along the surface of Allen’s scalp. It was warm, like the rest of him. A sunbathed kind of warm, though, not scalding by any means. A quiet warm.

Kanda felt like his blood had suddenly been replaced with pure electricity. He jerked his hand away and shifted until his body was pressed against the panel wood wall, as far away from Allen as possible.

“Kanda?” Allen muttered sleepily.

Kanda did not respond. His heartbeat echoed in the silent room so he pressed his hands against his chest in an attempt to muffle the sound.

“Kanda?” Allen asked once more, firmer. Kanda dug his fingers into the fabric of his shirt and clenched his jaw shut.

It was only once he was sure Allen had fallen back asleep—his soft sighs and steady, slow breathing filling Kanda’s ears—that Kanda relaxed, marginally.


	26. Chapter 26

Kanda didn’t remember falling asleep. And in waking, he surfaced gradually and vaguely disoriented. Everything was warmer than it should have been and it barely even felt like the same room. The air flowed differently. It was easier to breathe. Maybe he had slept through the week and already moved to his new foster home. Maybe he had never even moved to Froi’s. Maybe he had never found Allen Walker.

But everything smelled like him.

Kanda opened his eyes slowly. It was early. Too early. The sun was barely playing at the closed blinds. It would be hours before his alarm clock sounded. For once, he didn’t want to get out of bed.

The first thing he saw was grey. Grey eyes. He opened his own eyes wider. A soft smile. And there was a hand—a warm, warm, warm hand—gently resting on his cheek, fingertips languidly stroking his hair.  
Kanda gasped and shoved Allen away, then sat up and slammed his back against the wood panel wall, as far away from Allen as possible. His heart pounded and his veins throbbed. He choked on his own breath.

Allen sat crumpled on the floor. His face paled until that scar looked like a fresh streak of blood on snow. Then blush raced across his cheeks. He pulled his legs up to his bare chest and buried his face in his hands. His ears and neck reddened.

“What the fuck,” Kanda breathed, “What the fuck, Moyashi? What the fuck were you doing?”

His cheek still felt warm from where Allen had been.

“I’m sorry,” Allen said, almost whispered. ”I’m sorry I’m sorry I—”

“What the fuck were you doing?” Kanda asked again.

Allen refused to look up. ”Kanda… I… I… You… You were saying my name… in your sleep. I mean, ‘Moyashi,’ you kept saying ‘Moyashi.’ I… I just… I kinda thought…” His shoulders shook.

Kanda buried his hands in his hair and a low growling noise clawed out of his throat. ”I do not _fucking say names in my sleep_ , Moyashi, especially not _yours_.” He looked up and saw Allen was watching him, bare chest heaving. Kanda locked onto his trembling grey eyes. Allen scooted further away. ”I don’t give a fuck about you. You’re fucking disgusting. Get out,” Kanda spat.

Allen looked down for a second, then reached for his clothes, politely folded on the floor next to him. ”Sorry… I guess… I forgot. I forgot that you think I’m disgusting. That was probably really naive of me, wasn’t it? I… I just thought…” He didn’t look back up.

Kanda covered his face with his hands. He let the question hang in the air. Allen probably didn’t even expect an answer. He heard a few strangled breaths and heavy sighs, but didn’t uncover his face until the front door slammed.

Kanda stood up and grabbed the top blanket off the floor. He intended to fold it, but instead lay back down on his bed and hugged it to his chest. His blood stung with rage and hate pulsed through his veins but he didn’t know who or what it was supposed to be directed at.

After a few seconds of quiet thought, he supposed, maybe himself. He pressed his face into the blanket and pretended it didn’t smell like Allen.

“End of the week,” he told the blanket, “I just have to survive to the end of the week. Then I’ll never see the Moyashi again.”

Kanda fell back asleep with his chest, stomach, veins, bones feeling hollow until dreams of a scarred smiling face filled him with warmth.


	27. Chapter 27

Kanda didn’t go to his first three classes, and didn’t quite feel like finding the words to explain why he decided to come to his fourth class. The class before lunch, his first class of the day that contained Allen Walker.

It also contained, Kanda noticed upon entering, a test.

He was fifteen minutes late to the class, and the teacher gave him a look in exchange for Kanda’s tardy pass that was easily identified as meaning “you’ll be staying after class to have a chat.” He didn’t care.

There was already a test sitting on his desk, and there was already a beansprout sitting one desk back.

Allen glanced up as Kanda approached in the silent room. Their eyes locked, and the color drained from Allen’s face for the second time in less than twelve hours. Maybe, Kanda surmised, this time it was because Allen probably had forgotten about the test too.

Allen’s pupils seems to shift in and out of focus as he returned to his paper. His eyes looked a little too red-rimmed for Kanda’s liking.

“Yu, sit down and take your test,” the teacher said behind him.

“Don’t call me that,” Kanda snapped, turning to look over his shoulder. The man stared, brows furrowed. His glare hardened. ”You’ve got detention.”

Kanda sat down and fished a pen out of his backpack. He glanced up after writing his name—last name only—on the paper, and saw everyone else was staring at him. From the Chinese girl on the track team to that annoying class clown with the flaming red hair. He ignored them and started scribbling down numbers and various mathematical equations as they came to his scattered mind. He didn’t bother to look at the questions. He was going to fail the test. He was already failing the class. Fuck, it almost felt like he was failing at life.

That dipshit Moyashi behind him seemed to be trying not to fail though, if the frantic scratching of his pencil and periodic erasures were any indicators.

When the bell rang, Allen appeared to hesitate before disappearing. Everyone filtered out until it was only Kanda, Allen, and the teacher. Then, with a backwards glance as the beansprout left for lunch, only Kanda and the teacher, whose name Kanda hadn’t bothered to learn, remained.

“Did you even try?” the teacher asked as he skimmed over the first page of Kanda’s test.

“No.” Kanda left his desk and stretched. Like hell he was going to let this man literally talk down to him.

“You’re failing my class. You haven’t been here the entire year so I’ve been trying to cut you a break, but you’re making it hard on me, Yu.”

“Don’t call me that,” Kanda snapped again. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched the tick tick tick of the second hand on the clock.

“I would assign you extra homework, but you rarely do your normal homework in the first place. And it’s not like detention has ever had any semblance of an impact on you.” He leaned against one of the empty desks and sighed. Kanda snorted.

“If I set aside tutoring hours for you next week, will you come?”

“No,” Kanda said simply. The teacher stared at him and Kanda stared back.

“Care to elaborate?”

“I won’t be here next week.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Moving. To a new town. New school.” Kanda waved his hand around the classroom.

The teacher crumpled the test in his hand. ”I guess there’s no point in me ever grading this, then? If I write a letter explaining where you are in the class and maybe some good ways to… approach teaching math with you, will you give it to your new teacher?”

Kanda shrugged. ”Probably not.”

“At this rate, you’ll end up stuck in high school for the rest of your life, or at least until we kick you out.”

“Or until I stop coming.”

The teacher pointed at the door. ”Go take what’s left of your lunch hour. I’ll be talking to the principal and your parents about this.” Kanda scoffed.

Allen was there. At Kanda’s spot. He wasn’t even bothering to sit on the ground. No, he was sitting on Kanda’s bench, like he fucking belonged.

Kanda lit up a cigarette as he walked towards his bench. Ignoring the beansprout was probably the best course of action. Kanda grit his teeth, nearly crushing the cigarette before he pulled it away and held it in the dip between his index and middle fingers.

He was not giving into that beansprout. He was not going to let Allen win and take his bench. Allen could have the fucking spot at the end of the week, when he was good and gone.

So he sat down next to Allen, close enough that their knees almost touched, and took a drag from his smoke. The nicotine seeped into his system settling the impulse to strangle Allen Walker and leave his body for the janitor. Kanda closed his eyes and tried to focus on the silence.

“I think we should talk.”

Kanda cracked his eyelids open and stared up at the blurry blue sky, but continued to ignore Allen.

“Um.”

Kanda still didn’t reply, so Allen continued.

“About this morning. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I overstepped my bounds, and what I did was inappropriate. I invaded your space, and I’m sure you feel violated.” He paused, but Kanda ignored the provided opportunity to respond. He didn’t even turn to look at Allen. He just pulled another drag off his cigarette and wondered why he was even still sitting here, or at least why he wasn’t shoving Allen onto the ground, pinning him down, and—

“I… I think… I thought we were…” Allen shook his head and took a deep breath, then began again. ”I’m not trying to blame you, because that would be unfair. Though, to be honest, you’ve done plenty of things wrong,” he let out a half-hearted laugh, “I still haven’t forgiven you for the whole burning-me thing. …You’ve kinda been sending me mixed signals, or at least I’ve been misinterpreting things, but _that’s_ not your fault.”

He turned to look at Kanda, who watched him out of the corner of his eye. That scar curved around Allen’s smile, and the wind rustled through his ivory hair. Kanda’s fingers twitched around his cigarette and he steeled his muscles to hold steady. He would not, under any circumstances, touch the beansprout’s hair.

“I guess what I’m saying is… I thought you liked me in a not-just-friends way… which is… Um. That’s the way I like you. But that’s okay. If you’re not interested in me that way I’m okay with us staying just friends. And… I really hope we can do that. Because, even though you make it difficult, I do enjoy being your friend.”

Allen’s smile grew and Kanda could feel his chest tighten. He turned to look at Allen and opened his mouth to say… something. He didn’t know what. But he wanted to say something that would make that stupid grin disappear. Then the bell rang.

Allen stood up and offered his hand to Kanda.

“What do you say? Can we still be friends?”

That fucking smile. It was sharp like glass, battle-ragged. Kanda couldn’t tell if it was sincere. It was painful. Definitely for him to see. Maybe for Allen to wear as well.

“We’re not friends.” Kanda stood up, crunched the cigarette under his boot, and began to walk away with his fingers knitted together at the back of his neck. ”We never were, and we never will be, you jackass.” He glanced over his shoulder for a second and saw Allen, still facing the bench, drop his hand to his side. His shoulders briefly slumped, then straightened. Finally, Allen turned around and literally ran after him.

“No, I think we’ll still be friends,” Allen said once he caught up. Kanda kept walking.

“No.”

“I have just as much right to decide that we’re friends as you have to decide that we’re _not_ friends,” Allen said with laugh.

“That’s not how it works and you fucking know it.”

Kanda was a few paces ahead of Allen, so the beansprout couldn’t see the smirk that Kanda didn’t even realize he was wearing.


	28. Chapter 28

The words spilling out of Coach Nine’s mouth made Kanda’s blood burn livid with rage. She and her class—which he had originally despised considerably less than his other courses—had truly been put on this earth to make Kanda want to kill people. Evidence to the contrary was scant in comparison to what the coach was telling the class: “Today, we’ll be practicing wrestling.”

She went on to say that the principal had the idea to put together a wrestling team and wanted to see if there was any raw talent hiding in the gym classes. No, they didn’t have any of those fancy spandex suits, so they’d just wear their normal basketball shorts and t-shirts. And no one thus far had suffered any injuries worth a trip to the nurse’s office, except for some jackass in second period who couldn’t listen to instructions.

Kanda couldn’t listen to instructions either. All he could do was sit and think about how he would have to grab someone, pin someone, fucking touch and feel someone while they tried to do the same to him. He scanned across the gym, sizing up each of his classmates. He was going to maim one of them, the poor bastard.

As his eyes fell on the shock of white hair sitting a few feet away from him, everyone started standing and moving and clearing the floor and pulling out mats. A wave of dizziness crashed through his mind until he shook his head. No. No way. There were at least 25 other kids in the class, the probability of him being paired up with…

“Alright, pick an opponent. I don’t care who. Kanda, Walker, could I see you for a second?”

Kanda stood. Allen followed suit and rubbed his leathery arm, looking down at the floor while Kanda glared at the approaching teacher.

“You two,” she said, gesturing at them with her clipboard, “I”m pairing you up. No choice.”

Allen’s arms dropped to his sides and Kanda’s nose crinkled in disgust.

“What?” Kanda hissed, “What the hell do you mean? I have to wrestle with this Moyashi? Why him?”

The coach nodded her head.

“Kanda, you and I both know that you’re virtually the only one who hasn’t bullied or assaulted Walker in this class. I know boys will be boys, and there’s not much I can do about it other than wait for him to toughen up,” she shot a pointed look at Allen, who narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to say something.

“But,” she continued, “I’m not going to have another injury on my watch, and that’s what’s going to happen if someone else wrestles with him. So Kanda, Walker, you two are up. Now. Just get this over and done with.” She pointed at the mat in the middle of the gym, surrounded by their classmates. ”I’ll give tips and instructions while you two wrestle, so pay attention.”

“Wait. Are you saying I’m not tough enough to fight anyone else? You can ask Kanda, I’ve got a solid punch. He’s seen it. I’m not weak.”

Kanda vaguely remembered Allen punching someone in the locker room and nodded. It had been a decent hit. He couldn’t deny that.

“Allen Walker, this is not a barroom brawl! There will be no punching, kicking, no scratching. Have you even seen a wrestling match? It’s based around grappling!”

“Yes, I know that! I’m just saying that I’m not a weakling! I can take on anyone, even if they’re fighting dirty!”

The coach patted the clipboard against her own shoulder and began to walk away. ”The point is to keep the fight from getting dirty, Walker!”

He really was going to have to fight Allen. Physically. Kanda swallowed and muttered, “fuck.”

“What, you afraid I’ll win?” Allen asked. Kanda nearly punched that curved scar on the beansprout’s face, but headed for the mat instead. ”Like hell.”


	29. Chapter 29

Kanda wasn’t sure how he’d managed to forget how god damn fast Moyashi could be. He had seen Allen play dodge ball, basketball, run the track, and whatever else their coach had come up with. And Allen was rapidly slipping out of Kanda’s grasp.

Even more importantly, the fucker was strong. Surprisingly so.

Kanda learned that fact when the little shit managed to grab him by the shoulder and hip and slam Kanda down on his back. It knocked the wind out of him, and Kanda’s ears were ringing. Before Allen had a chance to pin him, Kanda was upon his feet. Then Allen circled around him in a strange predatory half-crouch. His grey eyes glowed with something untamed that Kanda didn’t want to comprehend.

This fucker knew how to fight, Kanda quickly gathered.

Kanda knew how to fight too. And Kanda wasn’t a merciful fighter. Neither was Allen by the looks of things.  
But Allen was so damn fast. He wasn’t half as scrawny and weak as he looked. The tips of Kanda’s fingers would catch on his waist, shoulder, or even skim the surface of some revealed patch of electrifying skin, but Allen managed to twist away each time.

The coach’s suggestions were of no help. Kanda couldn’t focus on them while he was also focusing on grabbing this beansprout and pinning him down on the mats. He just wanted this to be over and done with, but the coach was yelling out “no, don’t grab him there, go for his waist” or “get his shoulders against the floor; I told you that’s how you win!”

Mostly, Kanda just wanted to win. He wanted to feel a throb of satisfaction rack his spine as Allen was pinned against the mats, immobilized, and knew without a doubt that Yu Kanda was not someone to be toyed with.

There was a flash of smooth leather against his neck, and Kanda pulled away nearly a second too late when he registered the fact that Allen’s hand—his sanguine and deformed one—had been touching him. A shiver ran through his body despite the fact that Kanda’s temperature seemed to have skyrocketed.

Allen’s amazing balance was another obstacle. When Kanda tucked low, barreled into the kid, and thought he finally was going to have him pinned and beat, Allen jumped. One of his feet lightly pressed against Kanda’s back as he launched himself over Kanda and landed with an obscene amount of grace at the opposite end of the mat. Like a fucking circus performer.

Oddly, some of the boys watching on cheered. The teacher scolded Allen and reminded him that wasn’t a legitimate wrestling move. The sounds were just distant buzzes in Kanda’s mind.

When Kanda spun to face Allen, he was greeted by the sight of Moyashi panting heavily. His chest was heaving. Vaguely, Kanda remembered what that chest looked like when Allen was shirtless. On the floor of his bedroom. Kanda shook his head and caught Allen’s eyes.

Moyashi’s pupils were too dilated for this light, silver eyes simultaneously almost hazy, and the corner of his mouth was twitching into a smile. There was something feral about it. There was something challenging about it.

Kanda felt a smirk slide its way onto his own face and prepared to pounce.

He and Allen circled each other, drawing closer and closer. He could see the whites of Allen’s eyes, but instead found himself focusing on that mercurial silver. It was a thin ring around his pupils, moonlight skimming the surface of a lake. It was unnerving. Kanda looked away and watched the steady movements of Allen’s legs.

Then, he looked back up. He caught Allen’s gaze and stared back, eyes narrowed. Allen’s chest was still heaving, but a red tint had encroached on his cheeks.

“Moyashi,” Kanda said, quiet and low. Allen blinked.

The coach yelled something about no talking on the mats as Kanda swept Allen’s legs out from under him and pinned down his arms. He didn’t mind the snarl that crept out of his throat.

“That was a cheap trick,” Allen said. His face was only inches away.

Kanda could taste his breath. “All’s fair in love and war.”

“Which one is this?”

Kanda’s heart skipped a beat for reasons he refused to understand, and suddenly there was a jab against his hip. He fought to maintain balance, but somehow Allen’s hands got away from his and then there was a palm briefly pressing against his inner thigh and then he was on his back with Allen straddling his hips and his fingers digging into Kanda’s elbows and palms pressed into his forearm. He felt dizzy and disoriented for a split second, and Allen’s scarred face swam above his.

“Get the fuck off me, Moyashi,” Kanda growled. He lifted himself off the mat as best he could, keeping his shoulders off the ground. He wasn’t going to lose. His arms biceps shook under the strain, and Allen’s fingers and palms only pressed down harder.

“I think this means I won,” Allen said. He smiled and bit his lip. “Sorry for the cheap trick, but as you said, ‘All’s fair in love and war.’”

Kanda shifted under Allen and tried to maneuver his knee to where he could shove Allen off by the hip. His arms shook even more from the strain of keeping his upper back from touching the mat.

Kanda opened his mouth to say something along the lines of, “you haven’t won yet” as he tried to use his own hips to roll Moyashi over. But he shifted and instead a gasp passed over his lips when his groin accidentally grazed Allen’s thigh. His entire body felt like it was made of static and shocks and his shoulders collapsed against the mat. Allen’s eyes widened. The coach started loudly counting off numbers but all Kanda cared about was getting the hell away from Allen Walker with whatever remnants of his dignity he had left.


	30. Chapter 30

Kanda’s eyes widened and Allen’s widened even more in turn.

“Kan…da?” Allen asked. His grip on Kanda’s arms loosened and Kanda took the opportunity to shove the beansprout off of him. Allen hit the mat with enough force to possibly leave a bruise, definitely enough to hurt.

Allen stared up at him, still panting slightly, as Kanda got up and stalked off to the locker room. He kept his back to his classmates, and he kept his back to Allen. The coach said something but Kanda didn’t hear it.

He walked until he was in the back corner of the room, partially concealed by a row of lockers. Kanda considered a cold shower until he remembered that the showers here didn’t work anymore. Instead, he leaned his forehead against the cool tile and waited for it to cool him off. His blood was boiling with everything but anger. The tile smelled like shit and had probably never been cleaned in the history of the school.  
“Kanda, what the hell was that?”

Kanda growled a wordless response, not bothering to turn around and face Allen. He closed his eyes.

“Kanda, what the hell was that? Answer my question,” Allen asked again.

“Leave me alone, Moyashi,” Kanda snapped. He still didn’t leave his spot against the tile.

“Did you have… were you like… turned on by that?”

“Leave me the fuck alone, Moyashi.” His words didn’t sound right, even to himself. It had been a few years since his voice had cracked, but it felt like it was about to shatter.

Everything was falling to pieces. Kanda slammed his fist against the wall.

He took a breath and glanced over his shoulder at the beansprout, who… didn’t even look mad.

“What does that even mean?” Allen asked. Kanda pressed his cheek against a new spot of cold tile. It wasn’t helping. His blood still throbbed painfully in his veins.

“What does what mean?”

“Moyashi.”

“It means beansprout.” Kanda turned around, but instead of looking at Allen he pressed his back against the wall and slid down it until he was sitting on the floor, legs tucked up against his chest.

He kept his eyes closed and took slow, regulated breaths. He could finally feel his body calming down, just barely.

Kanda opened his eyes and saw Allen sitting on the bench across from him. Their shoes were almost touching. Kanda could feel Allen watching him, the sensation prickling at his skin, but instead he just leaned his head back and focused on breathing.

People slowly filtered into the locker room to change, and Kanda stayed sitting on the floor. Someone asked what they were doing. Kanda didn’t respond, and neither did Allen.

Kanda didn’t budge when they left, and he didn’t budge when the next class arrived. He noticed some girls eyeing the two of them suspiciously. Furthermore, Allen was still sitting there, watching him.

“Are you willing to talk yet?” Allen asked as soon as the locker room emptied again.

“Talk about what?” Kanda stared at Allen, who looked down and shuffled his feet. Kanda felt strangely aware of the beating of his own heart.

“How damned confusing you are. One minute you’re an asshole, the next you’re saving me during a dodge ball fight and giving me a place to sleep, and then… this morning… but then I’ve got you on a wrestling mat and you’re…kind of… _aroused_.” Allen played with the last word, dragging it out. Kanda would have thought Allen was making fun of him if it wasn’t clear he was taking all of this so damned seriously.

Either way, Kanda was up on his feet and had Allen pinned against a locker. Allen stared into his eyes, his gaze hardened despite the handle digging into his side. It felt like another challenge, and Kanda swallowed thickly.

“Shut the fuck up,” Kanda breathed.

“Kanda, I’m just saying, I don’t—”

Their noses bumped and teeth gnashed and Kanda had no clue what he was doing. He could taste blood. The only thought going through his mind was that Moyashi’s lips were just as warm and soft as he had thought, had hoped, they would be.

His lower back felt electrical—hell, every inch of skin surged with shocks—as Allen’s hand worked its way under his shirt and pressed against the sweaty skin there. Allen pulled him closer until their bodies were flush. Every nerve, joint, and bone was on fire.

When he pulled away, panting, Kanda realized one of his hands was resting against the back of Allen’s neck, and his other hand had Allen’s left, leathery, scarlet hand pinned above his head against the locker. Their fingers were intertwined. Kanda felt dizzy. A shiver passed through his body and his legs shook.

“Moyashi, I—”

“The name’s Allen.” And Allen’s hand left Kanda’s back, grabbed his shirt collar, and pulled them back together.

With Allen in control, the kiss was considerably gentler.

“You two!”

They pulled away and looked to where the coach was standing, her arms crossed.

“Get out of here and do that somewhere else. You’re scaring my girls.”

Kanda tried to back away from Allen but the hand around his waist held him tight. Allen’s bottom lip was swollen and red, split in the middle with blood smeared across his chin. Kanda looked down and pulled his hand away from the back of Allen’s neck. His stomach churned painfully.

“Ah. Sorry. We’ll leave,” Allen said with a smile.

The coach tittered and waved her hand at them as she left. “Just go to class.”

As soon as her footsteps faded, Allen tried to pull Kanda back for another kiss. Kanda shook his head and stepped back. “I’m leaving.”

“Oh. Um. Okay,” Allen said. He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. “We’re fairly late for English class by now though, so… do you really want to go to class?”

“That’s not what I mean… I’m… moving. To another city, I think.”

“Oh.”

Kanda sat down on the bench and buried his face in his hands. Allen didn’t say any more, but the bench squeaked as Allen sat next to him

“If I leave, will you come with me?” Kanda asked. He didn’t know where the words came from. They certainly didn’t feel like they were his. But he looked at Allen, waiting for his reaction, nonetheless.

“Like, run away?”

“You make it sound juvenile when you say it that way.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Kanda looked down at his shoes. How had he even thought…

“You think I’d say no? You try so hard to be an asshole… and you’re mean as shit at times but… yes.”

Kanda’s heart began to pound again. “I thought you had your drunk or whatever.”

Allen laughed. “He’s not my drunk. And he’s on the verge of kicking me out anyways. I… I just don’t want to be alone.”

“And you wouldn’t be alone if you left with me?” It was a stupid question, but it bubbled up out of Kanda’s throat anyways. Allen shifted closer.

“Well… we could be alone together.”

He paused and Kanda swallowed. Allen wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“But… If you hurt me again,” Allen held up his arm and pointed at the slowly-scarring burn mark on his arm, “I’ll be gone. And I won’t look back. That, I promise you.” His eyes softened. “I know you’re a good person.”

Kanda glanced away for a second. He nodded.

When he looked back up, Allen smiled. His scar softly curved across his cheek. Kanda knew that he couldn’t make Allen’s split lip heal, but he still tried to learn how to kiss an apology.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting a single-chapter Epilogue in a few days. It's been fun, and thanks for reading!


	31. Epilogue

Kanda unlocked the front door silently and slipped inside before the light had a chance to wake the beansprout up. It was late; nearly two in the morning. He’d missed the last bus and had to walk.

“Dinner’s in the fridge,” a voice called out, muffled against a pillow. Across the studio apartment, Kanda could see Allen’s silhouette sit up and vaguely stretch before collapsing back into the sheets.

“Che, couldn’t wait up for me?” Kanda smirked and pulled open the fridge to dig out Allen’s attempt at cooking.

“It’s the middle of the night, and I’m tired. Rough day.” Allen’s voice was still muffled. He made no indication of getting up, but twitched and buried his face deeper in the pillow when Kanda flipped on the kitchen light.  
“You’re a cashier at a record store. How the hell can that be tiring?”

“Piano store,” Allen corrected. ”And I was training two new cashiers. Two. Bubbly teenage girls at that.”

“You’re a teenager.” Kanda took a bite of whatever the beansprout had cooked. He couldn’t tell what it was. It tasted like over-boiled carrots, smelled like burnt fish, and had the texture of applesauce. He hadn’t expected much. For having such a huge appetite, the Moyashi was a terrible chef.

“ _They_ don’t know that. They think I’m a somewhat-mature twenty-something. And they kept _flirting_.”

“Che.”

“I told them I was gay.” Allen paused. ”They flirted _more_.” The mattress squeaked as Allen shifted.

Kanda forced down as much of the hell Allen had created as he could then dumped the dishes in the sink. Allen groaned. ”Don’t leave them until morning!”

But Kanda had already turned off the kitchen light and picked his way through the tiny apartment in the darkness, around the loveseat and beaten milk crates they used as a coffee table. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed in next to Allen before collapsing face-down. The sheets were cheap, scratchy, and needed washing. Maybe tomorrow. Right now, they were warm. He flung his arm over the beansprout’s chest. Allen’s heartbeat echoed in the joints of his elbow and reverberated up Kanda’s arm until it mixed with the steady rhythm within his own chest. Allen rolled onto his side to rest a chin on Kanda’s shoulder. His breath was soft and almost ticklish against Kanda’s neck. He resisted the urge to squirm away.

“Why were you so late?” Allen asked.

Kanda lifted his head from the pillow. ”After I finished waxing the dojo’s floors a sensei offered me some lessons. I guess as a tip or something.”

Allen perked up under his arm. ”What kinda lessons?”

“Something with a wooden sword, I don’t remember what it was called. Guy said I was good.” Kanda yawned around the last bit and laid his head back down on the pillow, facing Allen. They were only a couple inches apart, their breath intermingling.

“That’s awesome. You should call next time, though. So I won’t stay up worrying.” He reached behind Kanda’s head to unbind his ponytail. Allen was smiling. Kanda couldn’t see it in the dark, but he knew it was there.

“You didn’t stay up worrying, jackass Moyashi.”

“Yeah but I considered it, idiot.”

“I’d have called if we had a fucking phone. You’re forgetting about that part of the equation.”

“You wouldn’t have called even then,” Allen sighed. ”We should work on that anyways, though. Marie would appreciate it if you called. Phone bills aren’t too expensive, right?”

“Maybe I’ll just send a fucking messenger pigeon. This city has enough of them.”

Allen snorted and shifted to rest his lips, briefly, against Kanda’s shoulder. The flutter of heat disappeared, and Allen’s breath returned to skim over his neck again. His breathing was soothing and warm, like the entire apartment, despite the lack of decent heating.

Kanda shifted to better face his Moyashi. Allen rested a hand on his ribcage, leathery fingers spread out and tucked into the grooves between his bones. Kanda ghosted his lips down the length of Allen’s scar, starting on his forehead, skating across an obligingly closed eyelid and ending near his jaw, before sliding an inch or so down to his mouth. Allen smiled into their kiss, and when they broke apart he said, belatedly, “welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys had as much fun reading this as I had writing it!


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